Even After Everything
by AlxM
Summary: Set early S5. Some hunters are talking bad about them due to Sam's past misdoings. He's not sure who exactly Dean's pissed at. In the end, maybe it never should have been a question. Rated T for some language and verbal abuse. Angry!Protective!Dean.


**Even After Everything**

"That Sam Winchester there? The demon-sucking freak who let Lucifer out of his bars?" A voice, muffled by its low volume and distance, carried over to their ears from a few feet away. "And that his brother, is he? What the hell's that dumbass doin' still keeping the little bastard around?"

Sam held back a flinch, shifting on the bar stool. The hunter sounded disgusted and angry. He threw a quick, tentative glance at Dean, who seemed to have frozen half-way through lifting his whiskey shot, before his face slowly went impassive and blank, jaw tightening, nose flared and eyes cold.

And Sam realized that he actually had no idea who that look was really for.

At the place that their relationship was in now, after the way Dean stood by in silence (understandably so) when Bobby, under the possession of a demon, told him that his deeds were unforgivable and to lose his number after everything was over, after Dean told him back in that parking lot of the hospital that he couldn't be trusted anymore, after the awful things he had done in the past year, Sam was pretty sure that Dean wasn't his number one fan right now.

And what the hunters were saying wasn't exactly a lie either. So if Dean was wearing that pissed-as-fuck look right now, there was probably a chance that it was out of some sense of humiliation of being associated with him. Plus, it wasn't really an unwarranted question why Dean was still keeping him around after literally setting the fate of the world to Hell, and the terrible, terrible things he had said and done to Dean under the influence of his addiction.

"Yeah, I have no idea. Guy calls himself a hunter, and then rides around the country with an equivalent of a blood-sucking vampire," a different voice muttered.

He swallowed, glancing down into his glass. The after-ache stayed even after the sharp stab died down. Brought back stuff he didn't want to think about (but he did anyway, far too much). He realized now that Dean didn't really mean that voicemail (at least not all of it, or else he wouldn't exactly be sitting alive here right now), but it didn't mean he didn't think about it often. Maybe it wasn't a bad thing though. It could serve as a lesson, a constant reminder, that he wasn't always, if ever, right. He could stop himself from making another bad decision ever again, learn to listen to the people who actually _did_ know what they were doing.

 _You're a monster, Sam. A vampire._

"But then again, I'm pretty sure he's always been an idiot. Explains why he stayed around with the freak the whole year he'd been screwing demons."

He chanced a look at Dean, whose head was bowed down now, his shot glass between his clenched fists, the ice in his features having increased a notch, which actually meant that he was borderlining rage. Sam inhaled heavily, felt a flash of anger that he pushed down quickly. They were insulting Dean too, but it was because of _him_. That wouldn't have happened if he was alone. The least he could do was try to calm him down, take him somewhere away from here.

"Hey…" Sam leaned close, murmuring so that they couldn't hear him. He laid a hand on Dean's arm. Dean jerked it away from him, which, of course he would. Bad move. He was literally being humiliated, merely for still sticking with him. Being touched by him was probably the last thing he wanted. He pulled his hand back to his drink. "Look...let's just go someplace else, alright? Forget about what they're saying."

"Shut up, Sam."

Yeah. He was pissed, and not just at the gossiping hunters five stools down, unaware that they really weren't being as quiet and stealthy as they thought they were.

"I'm just saying, you don't have to listen to that."

"Yeah, well… think I've already listened enough. And I'm done listening."

Dean made to slip off the stool, hands on the bar. Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him down, his aversion to his touch be damned. "I'm sorry," he said, guilt weighing in his stomach as he exhaled softly. Because of him, an evening that was supposed to be relaxing for his brother was ruined, to the point of him having to leave the place, and Dean really didn't get to relax much these days. "Maybe next place we go, I could sit somewhere else?"

Dean stared at him as if he had no idea what that meant, and why that was relevant. The puzzlement momentarily broke through that cold, infuriated expression. Sam was kind of starting to think he had this all wrong.

"If I were 'im? I'd put him down like the sick fuck he is."

And then, Dean brushed off his hand and turned around, and then he was gone before Sam could even process the words he just heard, before he could even _think_ about holding on to him, fingers curling slightly around air. Sam watched, standing up in alarm, as his brother marched up to the men, grabbed them by the back of their heads and slammed them down face-first onto the bar.

The bartender's scream and their resounding cries of pain overshadowed the sickening cracks of their noses fracturing, and before Dean could do any worse, Sam's brain finally decided to work. He ran after him, taking him by the arms and pulling him away, out towards the door, all the while his brother yelled out his typical rage-fueled threats, "I'll rip all your fucking lungs out if you talk shit about my brother, you hear me, you sons of bitches?!"

"Get the fuck off of me!" Dean pushed him off, spinning around on him. "I could have taken them, for fuck's sake!"

"It doesn't matter, Dean. It's trouble we don't need on top of everything else."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "Did you even hear what they said about you?"

" _If I were 'im? I'd put him down like the sick fuck he is._ "

"Yeah, I did."

Dean stared at him, breathing hard, his brows lined and jaw clenched with lingering fury. His gaze was scrutinizing, flicking up and down his face, reading him.

"Yeah...and you're fucking stupid if you thought I wasn't going to do anything about it, or if you thought they had any right to say anything about you."

Sam swallowed, glancing down at his shoes. He had no idea what to say to that, but he didn't have to.

"Get in the car," Dean grumbled.

And with that, he opened the door of the car, got into the driver's seat. Sam stood there, his heart lighter than it was before, felt a little less empty on the inside. He realized it felt a lot like hope, a lot like a knowing that he wasn't as alone as he thought he was, even after everything.

He rounded the car until he got to the passenger's side, opened his door too and slid in. He looked at Dean. Dean didn't look back, just started the car and turned up his music.

They rode in silence for the rest of the couple of miles.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Hello! Something I typed down in about two hours, but have been writing to write for a while. It's been done before, I know, but I hope you enjoyed my version of it. Thank you so, so much for reading! If you have a moment, I would love to know your thoughts. :D Constructive criticism is welcome, as long as it is polite and respectful.


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